


Airplane, Airplane Sorry I'm Late

by Krystalicekitsu



Series: Airplanes [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU- not a hunter, AU- not an angel, Community: schmoop_bingo, Confessions, M/M, Realization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-06
Updated: 2010-07-06
Packaged: 2017-10-18 18:30:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/191920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krystalicekitsu/pseuds/Krystalicekitsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel can't stop Sam from leaving. But maybe, just maybe, he has a hope of catching him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Airplane, Airplane Sorry I'm Late

**Author's Note:**

> Was reading through tumblr and someone linked me to [this song](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9XI81c41mYE). I was inspired by the song and possibly the ending of _Liar, Liar_ (which I fully admit is an odd combination).
> 
> DK Fffff. Can't believe I forgot to mention that this was intended to fill the 'memories' prompt on my [](http://schmoop-bingo.livejournal.com/profile)[**schmoop_bingo**](http://schmoop-bingo.livejournal.com/) card. /FAIL/

  
He's running as fast as he can. He's so out of breath, the very act of opening his mouth hurts, claws or nails or delicate bits of flesh assaulted by acid.

~*~

 _"I don't freaking get it! I mean, I'd **told** her not to make any plans; I'd **told** her I was taking her to Prom! Did she think I was **joking**?!?"_

 _Sam looked up from his calculus text, "Gabe, if it's such a big deal, go talk to Madison."_

 _Gabriel huffed and plopped himself down in the heavenly cushions of the couch that Sam was ignoring for his hellish chair and stupidly tiny desk, "That's not even the point, man. I just-," he raked a hand through his hair in frustration, aware of Sam's eyes on him as he fiddled with the piercings in his left ear nervously._

 _"I'm getting really damn tired of all this relationship crap."_

~*~

A security guard throws out a hand as he's running past. He can hear the shouts of 'slow down!' disappearing behind him. No way. He can't.

Gate 335 is too far away. He's not gonna make it.

~*~

 _Gabriel can see Sam from the corner of his eye, raggedy t-shirt and work jeans trying to fit in with the manicure and Areopostle crowd. But Gabriel's distracted even as he's distracted by Sam all the way across the party._

 _The beer Sam was holding was the same he was holding in his own hand and he was surprised that the strait-laced Winchester would go for one._

 _"No, I don’t care. You want to diss on me to your friends, fine. But **don't** expect me to sit around and take it. I'm not your goddamned **fuck toy**. That's what the fucking dildos in your fucking drawer are for!" he was so angry that the beer in his hand would've been all over him if it were in one of those damned plastic red cups._

 _But Gabriel doesn't drink beer from anything but a bottle._

 _"Whatever, Gabriel. If that's what you want, fine. I can find somebody else to sleep with."_

 _And that hurt. Probably more than he'd ever admit._

 _He looked away. Couldn't stand staring at the plain dismissal on her face._

 _Across the room, Sam's eyes met his and he smiled. Gabriel smiled weakly back._

~*~

~ _Final boarding for Flight 967A to Los Angeles. Again- Final boarding for Flight 976A to Los Angeles._ ~

He isn't gonna make it.

He pushes himself harder.

Gate 315-

Faster, even though his legs feel weak and uncertain.

Gate 317-

His lungs are screaming at him.

Gate 319-

His head hurts in that 'you're gonna pass out from lack of oxygen soon' way. He doesn't care. Maybe if he passes out he won't have to be awake to witness the biggest fuck-up of his life.

Gate 321-

Shit.

~*~

 _"I got in."_

 _"Hm?" Gabriel wasn't really paying attention. The rough of his script was due in two periods and he was only a third through the final scene. At least last night gave him the emotional crap to write a death scene._

 _"Stanford. I got in."_

 _Gabriel glanced up at that, "Oh. Hey. Congrats, Sammy."_

 _Figured. His best friend goes to California while Gabriel'd been accepted to the New York Film Academy. And a day after his girlfriend dumped him. Just wonderful._

 _"So… yeah."_

 _Gabriel went back to his script and tried not to let it bother him, ignored Sam's fidgeting presence and got to writing._

 _He didn't even make it four sentences before he reread the utter drivel that was spewing from his fingertips. He erased them with a scowl._

 _"I…"_

 _He looked up. Sam shuffled, that little thing he did- a shifting of his weight. He'd done it since they were kids._

 _"Yeah?"_

 _Sam looked at him for a second before something- energy, excitement, **something** \- leaked out of him and left him looking hollowed out and wanting._

 _"Nevermind."_

~*~

He vaults over suitcases, dodges around munchkins and tries not to trample stupid, galking tourists.

He lands badly, feels his ankle roll as he lands.

Runs on.

Ignores the pain on pure adrenaline and the chanting of ' _you stupid, stupid fuck_ ' in his head.

Gate 327 flashes past.

~*~

 _"Gabriel, what are you doing here?"_

 _"Studying. Now leave me the fuck alone, Castiel," he was in no mood to play nice even with his favorite little brother._

 _"Doesn't Sam have his final arguments for his Senior Project right now?"_

 _Gabriel stopped himself from breaking his pencil. He **didn't want to think about it**. His best friend was fucking leaving him. In a week. For some stupid early study program or some shit. A fucking internship. Gabriel didn't know. Didn't fucking care._

 _"And?" he snarled it. Probably. Hopefully. He was bitterly trying not to take his anger out on his History of Film homework. He was nearly done. If Cas would just **go the fuck away** he wouldn't be tempted to give himself a reason to need to do it over. Again._

 _"Gabriel-…" above him, Cas sighed, "Nevermind."_

 _Gabriel's head snapped up. Castiel never sounded like that._

 _"What?"_

 _"No, nevermind. It's not of import."_

 _Gabriel waved off his little brother's odd lexicon in favor of pinning him with a heavy stare, "Castiel, **what**?"_

 _"His Sr Project. He did it for you."_

 _Gabriel was confused, "Didn't he do some lawyer thing?"_

 _Cas looked at him like he was stupid, or mentally challenged, or had a hearing problem._

 _"Gabriel, Sam did his Project on the ethical dilemma of teaching risqué plays like **Macbeth** and **Romeo and Juliet** in public schools. He used arguments of free speech and education as well as historical figures' schooling."_

 _Gabriel was stunned. And suddenly, also, enlightened. Because he'd been wondering why Sam had been borrowing all his Classical works when Sam himself had admitted that the only play of Shakespeare's he **didn't** hate was **Hamlet**._

 _"If you leave now, you should be able to catch Sam's presentation."_

 _Gabriel was early, even with the stunned staring into space he did for a good ten minutes._

~*~

His vision's getting those odd blue/black/electric yellow spots in it. And it's really getting hard to breathe.

Whatever.

Because he can finally see the sign proclaiming 'GATE 335' and they're still loading passengers and- oh God, he can't be late. He can't.

"Sam!"

He's surprised he's got enough breath to do anything, let alone shout. But, as if in payment for the air, he trips, nearly goes head over heels. His old mock fighting training kicks in enough to prevent him from cracking his face open, or breaking his neck. He still stumbles out of the roll, his ankle kicking up a bitching fit.

"SAM!"

He skids to a stop in front of the gate, his ankle screaming.

Sam's not there.

~*~

 _"So, you're just gonna let him take off like that?!"_

 _"Like, WHAT, Winchester? Like he's got a fucking life?! Like he's got a fucking **full ride** to **Stanford**?! I'm not 'letting' him do anything! It's his own fucking life!"_

 _Dean snarled at him before visibly restraining himself. They'd never really gotten along. They liked the same things, dated the same chicks, did the same clubs and dressed nearly the same to a T. But they were **too** alike. It also didn't help that Dean was a singer. Damn good one, but a singer nonetheless and the theater kid in him couldn't stand a chance to get one over on a choir kid._

 _"I don't give a **fuck** what you think, Gabriel. My brother's been fucking **heartbroken** since he got that damned letter." Gabriel frowned as the phone line was interrupted by static and visual delay._

 _Frankly, he was surprised that Dean's little computer could **handle** Skype. Or that Dean even knew what that was._

 _"What the hell are you talking about? Why would he be upset over **that**?!"_

 _Dean snarled at him again and the image shook for a second. Dean looked up, frowned and readjusted the screen before he glanced back down, "He was all emo because he got rejected by Yale. Something about not having enough liberal arts or some stupid shit."_

 _"Why would he-"_

 _"GOD. You are so **stupid**! Do I have to fucking spell it out?! Yale. In NEW YORK. Stanford. **NOT IN NEW YORK.** Which is where you're going, **you friggin IDIOT**."_

 _Gabriel didn't have to take this. Not from Dean. Stupid ass bastard didn't get to call him names. He'd called to ask for **advice** , as stupid as that sounds. Not to get yelled at._

 _He reached up to slam the lid of his laptop shut on Dean's stupid, annoying face. It was so satisfying to hear the connection close. But not before Dean got in the last word._

 _"He **LOVES YO** \- !"_

~*~

"SAM! **SAM**!" he can barely breathe, but it doesn't matter. Because after that conversation with Dean he'd done a lot of thinking. A hell of a lot of thinking. And he'd gone to bed still thinking.

Because he remembers.

Remembers sharing birthday cake with Sam last year and smearing it all over his face and laughing as Sam caught him in the side of the head with a glob of icing in retaliation.

Remembers the night of the prom he'd intended to go to with Madison where he and Sam had spent hours lookin up at the sky with beer on his parents roof, not saying anything.

Remembers greeting Sam with a huge hug the first day of school after Sam got back from his summer trip to Florida and missing him so damn much. Remembers the way Sam stiffened in his arms before relaxing and hugging him back.

Remembers looking at Sam, and thinking, 'he always manages to make me smile. How does he do that?'

Remembers the way Sam's eyes crinkle in the corners when he knows something that you don’t.

How the tips of his ears turn pink when he's embarrassed.

How he was oddly sad and disappointed when Sam lost his virginity to Ruby. And how he'd posted naked pictures of her on Facebook after she'd gone around the school saying it didn't count.

How Sam studied math last because he said that studying it when you weren't tired was stupid because it was too easy.

Sam smiling during thunderstorms.

Sam never using an umbrella.

Sam being addicted to strawberry milkshakes for three weeks before Gabriel made him a vanilla one.

Sam sprawling out on Gabriel's bed whenever he was worried or stressed or confused, needed to get away from his brother and controlling father, needed a place to cool down, needed a laugh, a friend, someone to listen to, someone to talk to, to bounce ideas off of, to be forced to defend his ideas from, an editor for his latest paper, his latest speech.

And Gabriel woke up thinking, 'I've always loved him. I just never noticed because it was like breathing; you only miss it when it's gone.'

And then, 'Shit, Sam's plane leaves in an hour.'

And- 'Hm. That was a good line, I should write that down.'

And he'd raced to the airport, barely sparing time to tug on a pair of jeans and his jacket- a gift from Sam- over his undershirt on his way out the door. He wasn't wearing any socks.

He skids up to the booth and wants to strangle the nice young lady who asks if he has a ticket.

"No, I do _not_ have a ticket! I just want to se-," he fights it, he really does, but the black spots on the edges of his vision are getting darker.

He shakes his head. Calls out again.

"SAM!"

He's aware of a commotion in front of him before his vision blacks out and his ankle gives out from under him.

  
_Four months later.._   
  
_._

[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/krystalicekitsu/pic/0001brff/)

In case you can't read that, highlight to get the text from the card.  
  
_Hey Dean,_   


_Sorry about that.  
Gabriel got the dates mixed up.  
In answer to your question, yeah, everything's awesome. We're finally  
moved in and the  American Academy of Dramatic Arts accepted his essay  
so he starts class in the fall. He says 'hi', btw. ~~No, I don't. Ignore him.~~ We  
think Christmas is a great idea. Gabe wants to know if you're inviting  
Castiel. ~~Hurt my brother and I'll **Castrate You.**~~  
Well, be seeing you around Dec._

 _Sam  
                    ~~I'm serrious about my brother, Dean~~._

 _PS- Sorry again about the shower thing._

  



End file.
